


momentum

by envysparkler



Series: Pavor [13]
Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Broken Bones, Electrocution, Gen, Good Sibling Dick Grayson, Hurt Jason Todd, Hurt/Comfort, Jason Todd Needs A Hug, Scarecrow's Fear Toxin (DCU), Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-06
Updated: 2021-02-06
Packaged: 2021-03-12 00:42:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,265
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29251656
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/envysparkler/pseuds/envysparkler
Summary: Red Hood is trapped with a Nightwing infected by fear toxin.
Relationships: Dick Grayson & Jason Todd
Series: Pavor [13]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1932523
Comments: 103
Kudos: 689





	momentum

**Author's Note:**

> Because I really wanted Jason facing off against Dick in hand-to-hand and realizing that shit, he's actually outclassed.
> 
> This can take place after 'padded cuffs', if you like, but there's no real connection between the stories.

At the time, Jason thought it had been a solid plan, him taking the rebreather.

Jason’s helmet had been sacrificed to the greater cause of blowing shit up – he was running through them a little too fast, would it kill the Bats to keep their own stock of explosives? – and the backup rebreather had only lasted through the first wave of fear toxin. When the warehouse floor was carpeted with another wave, canisters clattering down from above, Nightwing had shoved his backup rebreather at Jason, called it in, and demanded they find somewhere to ride it out.

Jason had glared at Nightwing – he didn’t need Nightwing to always play sacrificial martyr in the middle of a fight – but he’d grabbed the rebreather, stuck it on, and yanked Nightwing with him as he headed for the panic room in the basement. The other Bats would deal with clean up, not that they’d left much to clean up.

It made sense. Jason had the height and weight advantage on Nightwing, he’d have an easier time trying to contain him through the nightmares than Nightwing with him. And Jason was a little bit grateful that he wouldn’t see the parade of his nightmares, of the crowbar, of choking on dirt, of the vivid green of the Lazarus Pit. Of Bruce, screaming at him for all his failures.

Besides, Nightwing’s usual shtick with fear toxin was to throw himself off a building, so as long as Jason got them underground, they should be good.

That was what Jason thought, all the way through the corridors with a stumbling Nightwing clinging to his arm, right up until Jason barricaded the panic room door shut, and was met with Nightwing’s blank face right behind him.

“Hey, Wing, we’re safe here,” Jason said, keeping his voice low, “We just need to wait for Batman to come down with the antidote, alright?” Jason was estimating a half-hour to an hour on that – they were still hunting down Scarecrow, and the other Bats were scattered across the city.

Nightwing shuddered.

“Wing?”

Hands came up to claw at the mask, and Jason caught them, firm but gentle, pulling them away from Nightwing’s face, “It’s okay, we’re safe, whatever you’re seeing, it’s not real –”

Nightwing twisted fluidly out of Jason’s grasp, but stumbled on the step back and Jason groaned – it would’ve been great if he hadn’t had to restrain Nightwing, the guy was a slippery bastard on a good day, and Jason stepped forward, intending to sit on Nightwing until he calmed down.

Nightwing’s back hit the wall, and he suddenly exploded into movement.

And Jason meant that semi-literally, because he got punched hard enough to see stars.

Jason recovered from the daze before Nightwing could put him through a wall, and pressed forward – the space in the room was limited, which meant Nightwing couldn’t do his trademark flips, so as long as Jason boxed him into a corner, he could twist him into a hold and get him to _stay still_.

But Nightwing didn’t let himself be boxed into a corner, he kept slipping out of Jason’s grasp, and he used the momentum to slam a kick into Jason’s midsection – the armor caught most of it, but Jason cursed on a wheeze as he felt something crack.

“Alright,” Jason growled, faint tinges of green appearing around him, “We’re doing this the hard way, then.”

Jason had never seriously gone hand-to-hand with Dick. Before, back when he was still Robin, he’d barely spent enough time in the Golden Boy’s presence for a spar, and Dick had made it pretty obvious he was holding back. After, their fights were usually at distance, with Dick trying to dodge Jason’s guns, and he never joined a spar because of the Pit’s influence lurking around his emotions.

He’d seen Nightwing in action numerous times, of course, but _seeing_ and _having his arm yanked out of his socket_ were two very different things.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Jason hissed, automatically moving to his holsters, “Wing, _calm down_ , whatever you’re seeing, it’s not real, you’re safe – stop –”

Nightwing drew his escrima before Jason could draw his guns.

Jason was beginning to have a very bad feeling about this.

“Nightwing, you’ve been hit with fear toxin,” Jason said slowly, his uninjured hand creeping to the pocket that had sedatives – he didn’t like using them but he had no choice. “You’re safe, you need to calm down.”

He found the needle and lunged, aiming to stick Nightwing before the other vigilante finished processing the mismatch between hallucination and reality.

Nightwing pressed back, hit the wall, and pushed off of it, swinging up faster than Jason had expected – one escrima snapped into his hand, hitting it hard enough to break something and forcing Jason to drop the sedative. The other escrima crashed into his _face_.

Jason struggled for breath amidst the sharp slice of white-hot pain, and he heard the high-pitched whine a half-second before _everything was on fire_.

It felt like ants chewing on his skin, up and down his body, he could feel the spasms through his _teeth_ , his eyes were rolling back into his head as he writhed, his chest a mass of agony as broken ribs constricted painfully and his nerves felt like they were peeling themselves off his body and –

Jason gasped for breath, loud and heaving and wet, struggling to curl up, away from the danger, the threat, the cold feel of the metal bumps lodging into the hollow of his throat. He blinked against blurry vision, and followed the solid, dark line of the stick up, to a shaking hand, to the blue wings, to the expression of twisted rage and fear.

He couldn’t even swallow.

Nightwing twitched, and Jason reacted, rolling away before he could flick the electricity back on. The edge of escrima caught his dislocated shoulder though, and Jason couldn’t entirely strangle the scream as he scrambled back into the corner.

His whole face was throbbing, and half of it felt like it had melted. His right cheek was swollen, one eye blurry no matter how often he blinked, and the dissonance caused a spike of pain through his skull.

Nightwing hadn’t followed through on the strike – he was staring blankly into empty space, escrima lowered, shaking visibly. The sedative was lying near his feet, and Jason briefly entertained the thought of running for it, of grabbing the needle and slamming it home.

His cheekbone gave a particularly vicious throb and Jason curled up, dislocated arm resting in his lap, left knee up as he tucked his face into the corner, carefully resting his forehead against the wall so the swollen parts of his face weren’t pulsing against the rough material.

He stayed there, curled into as small a ball as he could manage with his broken bones, pressed into the corner, and prayed that he wouldn’t be noticed.

Nightwing began screaming, and Jason squeezed his eyes shut.

* * *

Dick came back to himself with the taste of pennies on his tongue and rotting iron in the air. He felt twitchy, like he wanted to jump out of his skin, shuddering as his eyes darted around the small, enclosed space.

There was a chair wedged until a locked door handle. A single bulb, set into the ceiling. The room was bare – and Dick was momentarily sidetracked by his fingers, nails red and bleeding, throbbing in tune to the stinging scratches on his face.

The room was bare, except for the figure curled up in the corner.

Fear toxin. He – he remembered throwing his backup rebreather to Hood, because he never wanted to hear his little brother screaming if he could help it. He remembered feeling his vision blur in and out – hearing screaming and cackling and a thousand ghosts appearing out of the shadows.

“Hood?” Dick asked hoarsely – his throat felt raw and his voice barely reached a whisper.

The figure turned slightly, enough for him to catch the edge of a mask and a white lens. Dick was having a little difficulty believing that Jason could curl up into a ball _that_ small.

He stared at Jason, hiding in the corner, and back at his bloody fingertips. He touched his cheek, and it ached. “Why didn’t you stop me?” he croaked. He was surprised – he hadn’t expected Jason to just hide, unless something had happened. Did he get a dose of fear too? Had Dick accidentally triggered him? Had –

Jason dropped his knee, uncurling enough to face Dick and – _Jesus fucking Christ_.

“What,” Jason said, his lips barely moving, “Makes you think I didn’t try?”

Half of Jason’s face was swollen, dark purple bruising centered on his right cheek, his face strangely flat just below the mask. His mouth was pressed into a thin line, and he was taking shallow breaths.

Dick immediately moved to him, dropping to a crouch. “What _happened_?” he whispered, stunned, reaching out –

Jason flinched, and Dick froze.

“You.” More an exhale than a word.

Dick rocked back on his heels, and felt the anxiety spike – fear toxin and no antidote, which was a hell of a thing to come down from, and his racing heart was not helped by the way his little brother’s face was half broken.

Half broken _by his hand_.

“Where else are you injured?” Dick asked, resisting the urge to crawl forward and apologize until his voice was hoarse – the jitters of fear toxin were still present but Jason needed him to be Nightwing right now.

Jason slumped back slightly. “Cracked rib. Dislocated shoulder.” Jason’s right arm was hanging curiously limp. “Some broken carpals,” he waved his left hand, before motioning to his face, “Broken cheekbone. Maybe something else. I have a killer headache.”

“Can I?” Dick asked quietly, stretching out a hand, and Jason was silent for a long moment before he ducked his head in acquiescence.

Dick was careful, gently prying at one edge of the mask so he could slowly peel it off. It took forever, the masks were not designed to be removed without the solvent, but Dick needed to see the extent of the damage.

One weary green eye came into view, and then the next – cornea shot through with red, and lurid bruising turning it puffy and dark purple. The edge of the mask must’ve been acutely painful against the swelling.

“What?” Jason said, catching his hissed inhale.

“Can you see out of both eyes?” Dick asked, careful not to press as he lightly traced the edges of the swelling with gentle fingers.

Jason closed one eye, then the other. “Right eye’s blurry,” he said softly, green glimmering again. He was taking great care to move his jaw as little as possible, which was the second biggest clue to the agony he must be in.

The first was the lack of banter – Jason’s silence was always a telltale clue to his mood.

“Can we get out of here?” Dick whispered, glancing back at the door. He wanted to stop vibrating out of his skin, and Jason needed actual medical attention, the sooner the better.

Jason weakly shook his head. Out of the helmet and mask, his face too bruised to keep up a scowl or sneer, his features had melted back to the teenager he was, instead of the fearsome antihero he often portrayed.

“Toxin…everywhere,” Jason murmured, “Waiting…for…Bats.”

Dick checked his comms, but all he got was static – they must be too far underground. “ETA?” he asked.

Jason shrugged the uninjured shoulder, “Another…half-hour…maybe.”

“Okay.” Thirty minutes. They could wait for thirty minutes. Jason was clearly in agony, but for lack of a better option, they would wait. Dick mentally calculated the chances of getting Jason to take a painkiller, and then mentally calculated the chances of getting Jason to _swallow_.

“One last question, Little Wing,” Dick said quietly, “Can I reset your shoulder?” It would hurt a whole hell of a lot, but at least it would be one problem down.

Jason considered it – _actually_ considered it, the kid was clearly in excruciating pain – and twisted, pushing his injured arm closer to Dick.

Dick wrapped his fingers around Jason’s right wrist, and braced the other one on his shoulder. “Ready, Jaybird?”

Jason nodded, and Dick pulled.

The strangled, pained wheezing sob grated in his bones – Dick had no doubt that it would haunt future nightmares. Jason sucked in rapid breaths, shuddering, and Dick could see the gleam of tear tracks on both cheeks.

“I’m sorry,” Dick whispered, gently fitting his hands around Jason’s jaw so his trembling wouldn’t aggravate his wounds, “I am so, so sorry, Little Wing.”

“Not your fault,” Jason hissed, tipping his head back as he struggled to breathe around the pain, “Though…future reference…you keep the rebreather.”

Dick’s face twisted – he didn’t want to listen to Jason beg, didn’t want to watch his little brother trapped in his mind with the worst monster Dick had ever faced, didn’t want him to relive a torturous death. Though the alternative hadn’t been better.

“Okay, Jaybird,” Dick agreed, and slid back, sitting cross-legged and tugging Jason with him. Green eyes half-narrowed in confusion, but he moved with Dick’s nudges, folding on his left side until his head was in Dick’s lap, uninjured side down. “Maybe some extra sparring practice too,” Dick suggested, his fingers lightly running through Jason’s hair.

Jason huffed out something that could charitably be called a laugh, and slowly relaxed, his breathing evening out as Dick kept up the gentle stroking.

Dick was going to carry _three_ backup rebreathers from now on.

**Author's Note:**

> The hair pets are because Peren demanded cuddles.


End file.
